MR's Guide to the Batchelder Boys
by Olympian814
Summary: There's no place like home-when 7 boys live there. Turns out, living with 7 boys might as well be a foreign country! The boys are messy. They are cliquey  who knew? . And worst of all, two of the oldest boys are H-O-T.
1. Prologue

**Okay after much consideration (and a whole lot of "you should so do its!" from friends at school…yes I have a life and go to school) I finally had the time to start this new story! And yes to that question forming in almost everyone's mind, this story is based off of Kate Brian's **_**Megan Meade's Guide to the McGowan Boys.**_

**Roll call!**

**Megan Meade-Maximum Ride**

**Evan McG.-Dylan**

**Finn McG. -Fang**

**Doug McG. -Sam from SOF**

**Mrs. McG.-Dr. M**

**Mr. McG. -Jeb**

**Ian McG. -Gazzy**

**Sean McG. -Omega**

**Tracy Dale-Franklin-Nudge**

**Aimee Farmer-Ella Martinez **

**Hailey Farmer-Max II/ Maya**

**Miller McG. -Iggy**

**Ria-Angel**

**Jenna-Kate from ANGEL**

**Pearl-Star from ANGEL**

**Kayla Bird-Brigid Dwyer**

**Bobby-Ratchet**

**Caleb McG.-Ari**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the MR series or Kate Brian's Megan Meade's Guide to the McGowan Boys**

**Now … ENJOY!**

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

**~MAX POV~**

"Max, we need to talk."

I swallowed a mouthful of root beer and let the bendy straw fall from my lips. My heart dropped with it. I squeezed my eyes closed. What were my parents doing back from the base this early?

"This is my first soda of the day, I promise," I said, spinning in dad's leather swivel La-Z-Boy chair to face my parents. The moment I saw them, however, I knew they weren't about to talk about my daily sugar intake. This was much more serious.

My parents stood before me in the living room of our cookie-cutter government-issue home, both wearing falsely excited smiles. They were also sporting their dress uniforms-my mom in an army green pressed skirt and jacket with dark panty hose, even though it was about a hundred and ten degrees in the Arizona shade, and my dad with his collar buttoned so tight his neck was turning red.

"Oh God," I said.

I placed my sweating soda glass onto the coaster next to me and braced myself. I'd been an army brat my entire life, so it wasn't hard for me to figure out what was coming next. I just hoped it wasn't true.

"It's time to pack your gear, Maximum," dad announced, forcing a boisterous grin. "We're moving to South Korea!"

Yup. There it was. I went into a free fall. My internal organs turned weightless and started floating around inside my body cavity. I clutched the arms on the chair so tightly my knuckles turned white, just to keep from throwing up.

"What?" I blurted. My voice sounding very far away.

"It's been a while since we were transferred, hasn't it?" dad said matter-of-factly. "This should be exciting."

Exciting? Had he been testing gas masks over at the base today? How could anyone think I would be excited about this?

I had been moving all my life. I had been born in Rammstein, Germany, at one of the largest American army bases in Europe. When I was five, right about the time I had made my first friend, my family had been transferred to Turkey. After a few years there playing soccer with the boys and learning Turkish from my best friend, Medha, another transfer had come through, sending me to the country I had always thought of as home for the first time in my life. All through middle school I had moved, from Fort Carson in Colorado to Fort Bragg in North Carolina to Fort Leavenworth in Kansas. I hadn't been in any of those places long enough to make any real friends.

But here, at Fort Hood, I had finally found a home. I had made it through three full grades here. I was on a state-champion soccer team. I had just gotten my learner's permit. I had a real friend, Monique "Nudge" Dale-Franklin. And this year, on the first day of school, I was going to talk to Ben Palmer. Finally, finally talk to him. I even had the outfit all picked out, something so out of character for me, and I had also practiced my greeting three hundred and fifty-one times in front of the mirror, another thing I would normally wouldn't do. This was supposed to be The Year of Maximum Ride. Why was this happening?

"Max? Aren't you going to say something?" mom asked.

_Yeah, I'm gonna say something, _I thought, standing up. I turned my back to my parents and stared out the window, hugging myself and gripping the sides of my T-shirt in my fists. This was so wrong. I had always been the perfect little daughter. I never talked back, even when I really, really wanted to. I never let my parents know if I was depressed or upset or thought one of their many, _many_ rules was unfair. I had never disobeyed them once in my life. And I was the only girl in school who wasn't strutting around the base in a miniskirt and belly shirt like the pop star du jour. Didn't my parents realize how good they had it?

As I glared out the window at the perfectly cut lawn, the impeccably kept flower beds, I felt like I always did right before I was about to throw up. _Pull it together, Max,_ I thought to myself. It was like an outside force was working on me; I knew there was no stopping what was about to happen.

I turned around and looked directly at my parents. I held my breath. "I'm not going."

No one moved. I was having an out-of-body experience. Like last year when I had staggered over to the bench after suffering a concussion in the semifinal game at states. Like I was aware of what was going on around me but it wasn't really me that was there.

"Come again?" dad said.

"I'm not going. I'm not moving to South Korea," I repeated, holding my ground against them. Hey, I'm pretty dang stubborn when I need to be.

Mom and dad exchanged a look. It seemed that they didn't think it was me in the room either.

"I'm sorry, Max. we know this is hard for you," mom said. "But we're only going to be there for two years and then you'll be back stateside for college anyway."

Two years. _Two years?_ What kind of person put the word _only_ in front of the words_ two years?_

"No. I'm not going," I stated furiously, feeling adrenaline pump through my veins. "You can't do this to me. This is my life and…and I want to live it _here!_ With my friends! I mean, what about the soccer team? And…and the prom? And…"

_Ben Palmer and his perfect dimples!_ my mind wailed.

"Max-"

"I'm so sick of this, Mom! I hate moving. I just don't want to do it anymore. Why should I have to?"  
Dad took a deep breath. His nostrils flared as he let it out. He and mom looked at each other again, silently communicating, as they so often did.

"Well, there is one other option," mom said finally.

I barely dared to hope. "There is?"

"Your father and I-we have to go," mom said, fiddling with her wedding ring. "But if you really want to stay…"

"I can stay with Nudge?" I blurted.

"No…no," dad said. "The Dale-Franklins already have their hands full. You know that."

I knew all too well. Nudge's older brother, Joe, had graduated and was off at the Naval Academy, much to the chagrin of his "Go Army" dad. His moving out had freed up a bit of room in the Dale-Franklins' three-bedroom house, but Nudge still shared a room with her sister, Brianna, and the older of her two younger brothers was still bunking in the basement.

"Then what?"

"Well, last night Dad was speaking with Jeb Batchelder," mom started.

"Jeb Batchelder,"I repeated dumbstruck. Jeb Batchelder was dad's old friend from med school.

"He said he and Valencia would be happy to look after you while your dad and I are in South Korea," mom continued, as if she didn't notice that she just sent my mind spinning. "We didn't think it would be something you would be interested in. After all, South Korea is such an opportunity for a new cultural experience. However, if…you feel strongly…"

"Jeb Batchelder," I said again.

"Yes. Jeb Batchelder," dad said flatly. "Are you all right?"

Were my parents cracked? Were they certifiably insane? First they wanted to move me to the Far East, then they suggested shipping her off to the Batchelder house in Boston, Massachusetts, to live with all those-

"The boys will take a little while to adjust, but I'm sure you'll all get along," mom said.

_Boys?_ My mind was flooded with images of boys. Boys with missing teeth, their faces smeared with red Popsicle goo, their beady little eyes laughing at her as they lured me behind their house to see their new "puppy" and then lassoed me to a tree and hung me upside down. Greasy-haired, chubby-legged, evil little _boys_. Boys with worms in their pockets who ate gum off the ground and pulled my hair.

"How many of them were there again?" I asked as I lowered myself shakily onto the edge of the couch.

My mother and father pondered this. "Seven at last count, I believe," dad said. "Quite a brood."

_Yes. Quite,_ I thought grimly.

Of course they wouldn't be grubby-handed little mud-streaked munchkins anymore, would they? Most of them had been around her age the last time she saw them seven years ago, which meant that now they would be-gulp-_teenage_ boys.

I started to sweat. Teenage boys were even worse. Mud-streaked munchkins I could clobber over the head with a wiffleball bat. That was how I had finally gotten pudgy, stringy-haired Dylan-the worst of the pack-to back off the last time after the last lassoing incident. But teenage boys-those I might not be able to handle. Sixteen years old and I had yet to have a single functional conversation with a boy in my class. How was I supposed to live with seven of them?

"So, that's the deal," dad said. "You can either come to Korea with us or stay in the States, but if you stay here, you're staying with the Batchelders."

"Do I have to decide right now?" I asked.

"No, sweetie, but soon," mom said, leaning over to run her hand over my brown hair with natural blond highlights from being in the Arizona sun. "We're leaving in a few days." She planted a kiss on my forehead and I looked into her eyes-exactly the same chocolate brown as my own, with just a few wrinkles in the corners. "We'll miss you so much if you decide to stay."

I nodded numbly.

"But we just want what's best for you, so whatever you decide, we'll support you," mom added.

I swallowed hard. This morning I had woken up with nothing more important to do than practice my Ben Palmer speech and add half a mile to my daily run. Now the whole world had turned upside down.

"Thanks," I said finally.

Mom smiled, blinking back tears. "You think about it and let us know."

I slumped back into the couch as my parents left the living room. _All by myself with seven boys or with my parents…in Korea,_ I thought. Suddenly, running away to join the circus seemed like a workable option.

* * *

**TooDang-Funky: **miss u already!

**SoarToSurvive5525:** Nudge! Im not even at the airport yet.

**TooDang-Funky: **cant believe ur leaving me…L

**SoarToSurvive5525:** Not by choice.

**TooDang-Funky: **u better email me the sec u get there! 7 boyz! u r sooooo lucky!

**SoarToSurvive5525:** Not lucky. Dead. Im dead.

**TooDang-Funky:** well…tru. it IS u.

**SoarToSurvive5525:** Thx 4 the pep talk. Grrrr…HOW AM I GOING 2DO THIS?

**TooDang-Funky: **hey maybe u will FINALLY learn 2 stand up 4 urself!

**SoarToSurvive5525:** How many times r u goin 2 say that 2 me?

**TooDang-Funky: **5, 345, 654. or til u start doing it.

**SoartoSurvive5525:** HEY! I stood up to MOM AND DAD!

**TooDang-Funky: **it's a start. ok. been thinking bout the boyz. member last year my bro did that immersion thing in venezuela?

**SoarToSurvive5525:** where he learned to speak Spanish?

**TooDang-Funky: **yeah! u go for 2 weeks & talk nothing but Spanish & u come back fluent.

**SoarToSurvive5525:** …?

**TooDang-Funky:** well this is like a guy immersion program!

**SoarToSurvive5525:** so…what. Im going 2 b fluent in GUY?

**TooDang-Funky: **xactlee! u will c what they talk about when alone. U will c how they r with each other. U will c how they THINK! AND WHEN IT'S DONE YOU'LL BE ABLE TO WRITE A GUY GUIDE BOOK!  
**SoarToSurvive5525: **u r deranged.

**TooDang-Funky:** IM SERIOUS! U culd break the guy code!

**SoarToSurvive5525:** Huh. Guy 101.

**TooDang-Funky: **now ur getting it! and u WILL send me all ur notes so I can publish them on the web.

**SoarToSurvive5525:** i like it. im in.

**TooDang-Funky: **knew u wood b!

**SoarToSurvive5525:** Wish me luck! I sooooooo need it.

**TooDang-Funky:** good luck! swak!

**SoarToSurvive5525:** swak back!

* * *

**Soooo.** **How was it? Is it for keeps or should I give it the sweeps? I started writing this 'bout a week ago and hadn't found time to continue writing it until, oddly enough, today, my birthday? Isn't that weird? The day you'd think I'd be the busiest I'm not. Huh.**

**ANWAY…REVIEW!**


	2. ONE

**I could probably write this **_**huge**_** essay on all the reasons why I haven't updated in **_**forever**_**, but instead I'll just give you the simplified version: School. But as soon as I realized that my birthday was coming up again, I immediately chained myself to my laptop. I mean, who else would push themselves to the limit of typing so much you feel like your fingers are going to fall off? None other than this girl right here!**

**Disclaimer: Anything that's familiar I most likely do not own (ex. MR)**

**Without further ado I present to you (hey I'm a poet and I didn't know it!)…Chapter 1!**

* * *

As Valencia, or Dr. M as she preferred to be called, pulled her silver Volvo SUV into the driveway in front of the huge, farmhouse-style home, all I could see, and believe me when I say I can see pretty far, was boys. Boys everywhere. All seven of them plus their dad, running and laughing and shoving each other around on the front lawn, engaged in what appeared to be a full-contact, tackle version of ultimate Frisbee. They were playing shirts and skins. Shirts and mighty-fine-lookin' skins.

I felt my pulse pounding through my ears. Forget evil, laughing little maniacal monsters. These guys had been touched by the Abercrombie gods. They were a blur of toned, suntanned perfection. For a few seconds, I had trouble focusing on any one of them, but then one of the skins scored a goal and jumped up, arms thrust in the air, whooping in triumph as he clutched the Frisbee in one hand. His six-pack abs were dotted with sweat and a couple of stray pieces of torn grass. He had dark blonde hair, a square chin, and the most perfect shoulder muscles I had ever seen. One of his brothers slapped him on the back and pointed toward the Volvo. He turned around and looked right at me.

I'm ashamed to say that I felt my heart do a few flips.

"Well, here we are," Dr. M said, killing the engine. "Max?"

He smiled slowly –- a perfect, open, happy smile.

"Max?"

I felt something touch my arm.

"Oh! Uh…yeah?" I looked away from Mr. Perfect and couldn't help the blush working its way up to my cheeks.

Dr. M's brown eye's twinkled with amusement and sympathy. "You can live in the car if you want to, but they'll find a way to get to you anyway."

"Oh…um…" _God, did she just catch me practically drooling all over one of her kids? Gross!_

"Don't worry, Max. They all promised me that they will be on their best behavior," Dr. M told me, unbuckling her seatbelt. She swung her long, dark hair over her shoulder as she got out of the car, leaning down to look at me afterwards. "My advice? Just be yourself. I'm sure you'll be fine."

I somehow managed to plaster a smile onto my face as she shut the car door. _Be myself? Yeah, uh huh, I'll get right on that, Dr. M._

Tightening my ponytail, I stepped out of the Volvo. I felt the bottom of my t-shirt ride up a little and was aware of that fact as we strode over towards the boys, their eyes immediately locking onto the strip of tummy skin. Self-consciously, I pulled down the end of my shirt and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Maximum! It's so good to see you!" Jeb Batchelder exclaimed, rushing over to greet me. He gripped my hand tightly in his and stepped back as if to get a better look at me. Jeb was a tall man with dark brown hair that had bits of gray in some spaces and crinkles around his eyes that showed that he smiled a lot. His eyes were a piercing blue that radiated happiness as he walked towards me, the boys following slightly behind.

"Yeah…," I spoke slowly. "You too."

"Well, you certainly have changed!" Jeb said enthusiastically, his grin reminding me of a crazed maniac's. "The last time we saw you, you had that teddy bear permanently attached to your side, didn't you? What was his name again? "Mr. Boo? Mr. Boony?"

I forced myself to fight back the blush working its way up my neck. Of all things to remember, it had to my teddy bear. I mean, _my_ _teddy bear? Really?_

"Jeb," Dr. M spoke, a bit of warning in her tone.

"I don't really remember," I lied, hoping against hope that he would drop it already. I could feel everybody's eyes on me.

"Oh yes, you do! You wouldn't put that thing down for the world!" Jeb's voice boomed. "Mr. Binky? Mr.— "

"Mr. Boogie," I stated through gritted teeth. _Can't this guy take a hint?_

The laughter was deafening.

"Yes! That's it! Mr. Boogie! I remember because you kept making him kiss me," Jeb said gleefully. "You still have that thing?"

"No," I spoke up, ignoring the headache that was beginning to form.

"Okay, I think that's enough of the trip down memory lane." _Thank you, Dr. M!_

"What? I'm just making her feel welcome," Jeb said, rubbing the spot where Dr. M had elbowed him.

"Or exactly the opposite," I heard Dr. M mumble under her breath.

I toed at the ground with my neon green Conversed-clad foot, trying my best to ignore the nine pairs of eyes that were trying to burn a hole through my head. It was uncomfortable having that many eyes on me since the only time anyone, aside from Nudge and my parents, paid attention to me was when I was on the soccer field. And even then, I'm always blissfully ignorant of that audience because when I played, it was as is the rest of the world just disappeared. Now I felt more conspicuous than a full body rash.

Turning on my heel to get rid of the stares, I said over my shoulder, "I think I'll just go get my stuff." I opened the rear door to the SUV and yanked out both my motorcycle helmet and my backpack.

I slammed the door and whirled around, only to come face-to-face with the Abercrombie god himself. Startled by his sudden appearance, I tripped backward and slammed right into the side of the car in my hurry to create some space.

_Ow._

"Oops. Sorry," he spoke, flashing a grin in my direction.

"It's…problem," I replied. _Oh God. "No problem" or "It's okay!" How hard is it to speak just two freaking words?_

"Sorry about my dad. We tried to trade him in, but there were no takers." He said with a slow smile.

I, of all things I possibly could have done, snorted a laugh. It took all I had to stop the groan from making its presence known.

"Anyway, I thought I'd come help you with your bags."

"Uh…thanks, but no thanks. I'm fine," I said, slinging away from him and walking around to the trunk of the SUV.

"Cool bike, "he commented, glancing at the roof rack where my silver-and-black Maverick was latched. Back at the airport, Dr. M and I had ditched the torn up and dented cardboard box the airline had packed it in.

"Uh…thanks," I said again.

I slung my backpack over both shoulders, the helmet that was tied to it bouncing against my hip, and popped open the door.

"This is it?" he asked, an eyebrow quirking up in question.

"Yeah," I said slowly.

"Wow. I thought girls were notorious for overpacking."

"I'm not much of a girl," I replied.

_Stupid! What did you just say?_

He looked me up and down and smiled. "Could've fooled me."

Did he just flirt with me?

He hoisted the mesh bag of soccer balls out of the trunk, despite my earlier protests, and flung it over his shoulder. With his other hand he grabbed the larger of the two suitcases, leaving me my laptop bag and the smaller suitcase filled with my undergarments and pj's. Even though he had no idea what was in it, I couldn't help but welcome the relief that I wouldn't have to watch him carry them up to the house.

"I'm Dylan, by the way," he said as I reached up to slam the door.

I almost choked in my surprise. "No."

Pudgy, stringy-haired, snot-bubble-blowing Dylan had morphed into this WB-worthy god of Olympic proportions?

"Yeah, I am," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Didn't you hit me over the head with a baseball bat once?"

"It was a wiffleball bat," I corrected. "And I think you hung me from a tree first."

"Huh. I always thought it was a baseball bat," Dylan said.

"I'm freakishly strong."

_Right. Stop talking now. Stop…talking…now!_

But Dylan was, in fact, still smiling. It was starting to get a little creepy.

"So, you're a soccer player, huh?" Dylan questioned as we approached the rest of the Batchelder clan. "Good thing. You're gonna need to be quick to survive this crowd."

I looked at the other boys, who were now gathered in a huddle. The youngest one pushed between their legs to get in the middle of the circle, then pushed out again through another space and went in search of his next entry point.

"Yo! What does 'kicker' mean?" one of the boys asked, raising his head from the crowd. He had bleached blond hair cut in a Caesar style and a large diamond earring in his left ear.

_What?_ Oh, right, my motorcycle helmet. Written across the back of the black helmet was the word _Kicker_ in quotes.

"Oh, that's my nickname," I replied.

"Lame nickname," Caesar Boy said.

"She plays soccer, idiot," Dylan said as he placed my bag of soccer balls on the ground.

"Dylan! Language!" Dr. M scolded from her position on the porch.

"Okay, but tell him to quit being such a jerk," he replied.

I managed a slight smile.

"I can parent on my own, thank you," Dr. M shot back with a smirk. Then she walked over to Caesar Boy and gave him a light whack across the back of his head. He let out a dramatic "Ow!" and rubbed his skull vigorously, scowling.

"So, are you guys going to introduce yourselves, or are you all just going to stand their like a bunch of orangutans?" their father asked.

Grumbling, the boys broke up the circle a bit and one of them stepped forward. He was only slightly shorter than Dylan, with a similar athletic build, tousled pitch black hair, and brown eyes. He wore a black T-shirt that had one word on the front in white, old-fashioned typewriter lettering: _art._

"Hey, I'm Fang," he said. His voice was a little on the soft side. He lifted his hand quickly in greeting. "I think you're going to be in my class. Junior, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Cool," Fang replied with a small smile. "Um, you've already met Dylan," he continued, then turned towards the rest of the pack.

"This is Omega." He pointed to a shorter, stockier guy with dark brown hair and a bit of stubble. Omega wore jeans, even though it was ninety degrees out, and he had the Orange County Choppers logo tattooed on the outside of his right bicep. Last year, my dad and I had restored two vintage Harleys and I had just recently gotten my motorcycle permit. Omega might be a kindred spirit under that blank expression.

"That's Sam," Fang said pointing out Caesar Boy, who clearly thought he was the second coming of Eminem. He wore a gold cross around his neck and had big, defined arms but an incongruously pudgy stomach. I smiled at him, but he pointedly looked away and sucked his teeth.

"This is Iggy," Fang introduced. Iggy had a strawberry blond crew cut and was sporting a New York Yankees T-shirt with a caricature of A-Rod on the front. He stared at the ground and only nodded slightly when Fang said his name.

"That's Gazzy," Fang said, pointing at a bond haired kid who looked nearly identical to Dylan seven years ago.

"Hi, Gazzy," I greeted.

"Hi, _Kicker_," Gazzy replied, cackling a laugh and holding his stomach.

_Wow. He is _exactly_ like Dylan was seven years ago, _I thought.

Out of nowhere the littlest one came running over making a random revving noise. He ran headfirst into Dylan's knees and laughed.

"And this runt is Ari," Dylan spoke, lifting the little boy like he was hoisting a bag of potatoes. Ari sat comfortably in the crook of Dylan's arm with his head against Dylan's chest and one arm around his back. He touched the tip of his finger to his mouth, smiled shyly, and said, "Hi, Max."

I took a deep breath before smiling and saying, "Hi, Ari."

_Three for seven, Ride. Not bad._

* * *

**From: ****SoarToSurvive5525(at)yahoo .com**  
**To: ****Tom-n-JeanRide(at)yahoo .com  
****Subject: Settling in**

** Hey Mom and Dad!**

** Just wanted to let you know everything is fine here. We had barbeque for dinner and I ate a salad with it, I promise. The boys are getting used to me and Valencia and Jeb are really nice. Can't wait to see the new school tomorrow. I miss you guys already. I hope you guys had a good flight! E-mail and call me as soon as you can. **

** Max**

* * *

I sat back in the window seat of my new room with my laptop propped up in front of my knees. There was one thing I could say for my new digs—they were definitely pink. The walls were pink, the bedspread was pink, and the flower-shaped throw rug on the wood floor was pink. Dr. M had even gone out of her way to decorate the white dresser with large pink flower decals.

It was the exact opposite of every room I had ever lived in. And I absolutely despised it.

There was a quick knock on the door and Dr. M stuck her head in. I sat up a little straighter.

"I brought you some towels for the morning," she said with a smile, placing pink towels on the end of the bed. She looked around the room and paused when she saw the still-packed suitcases. "Settling in okay?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you," I said automatically. I would get around to that eventually, but that would make things seem so final. I still needed to get my head wrapped around the fact that this was actually my space first. Then I needed to get used to the fact that everything was _pink_.

"You don't have to call me ma'am," Dr. M said, crossing her arms over her chest and shrugging. "Makes me feel old."

"Oh. Okay, ma—" I bit my tongue. This was definitely going to take getting used to.

"So, I was thinking we could go shopping tomorrow night," she suggested. "I'm sure there are some things you still need to get for school. New clothes…makeup…maybe a new purse?"

_Wow. This woman is hurting for female companionship._

"Uh…okay. Sure," I replied, even though I had everything I could possibly need. I don't exactly enjoy shopping—a quality that had always puzzled queen-of-the-bargain-hunt Nudge—but I knew I could make the sacrifice when my answer was rewarded with an even huger smile from Dr. M.

"Great! I know just where to take you. There's a whole new wing in the mall that I've been dying to check out," she exclaimed. "We'll eat at the food court and have a real girls' night."

"Sounds great," I said. _New wing at the mall? Food court?_

"Okay, well, good night," Dr. M said. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Dr. M?" I asked, stopping her as she backed out of the room. "Is it always this…quiet around here?"

Her brows furrowed. "Basically never. I think we have you to thank for our current peace and quiet. My boys aren't quite sure how to behave with an actual girl around.

_Just what I didn't want to hear, _I thought, a lump forming in my throat. After a quiet dinner during which Jeb and Dr. M had made all the conversation, the boys had retreated to the basement and their Xbox and I hadn't heard from any of them since. It felt distinctly like a freeze-out. While I didn't mind avoiding their scrutiny, I didn't want them to hate me, either.

"I hope I'm not making anyone…uncomfortable."

"Please," she said with a wave of her hand. "I might actually get my first good night's sleep in twenty years. Good night, Max."

"'Night," I replied.

As the door closed, I sighed and reread my message to my parents. "_The boys are getting used to me." _Part of me felt guilty for not telling them the whole truth—that the boys were ignoring me and were clearly put out by my presence—but what was the point? I placed my finger on the mouse and clicked send.

Somewhere in the house a floorboard creaked and an outer door slammed; then all was quiet again. This place was definitely not the nuthouse I had expected.

* * *

The next morning I opened the door slowly and peeked out into the hallway. Music played from behind one of the closed doors, but the hall was empty and the bathroom door across the way was open. Now was my chance.

Clutching all things I needed for my shower to my chest, I stepped out at the same exact moment Fang emerged from his room. I stopped in my tracks. His hair stuck up in the back and he was wearing a pair of faded Boston College mesh shorts and a plain black T-shirt. So this was what boys slept in.

"Oh…hey. You going in there?" Fang asked.

"Yeah, if it's okay," I said. "I mean, I don't have to right now. I don't want to mess up your morning routine."

"No, go ahead," he said. "Knock on my door when you're done?"

"Sure. Okay," I replied. "No problem."

After a quick shower in which I tried not to dwell on the dozens of tiny dark and blond hairs stuck to every surface, I quickly towel-dried my hair and slipped back into my pajamas. It sounded like there was a lot more activity in the hallway now. Taking a deep breath, I wondered if it was always going to be this intimidating just to simply move about the house.

Squaring my shoulders, I stepped out into the hall, only to nearly have my foot flattened by a remote-control car. I jumped out of the way just in time and watch the thing zip down the hall and hop a makeshift ramp. I could feel my eyes widen in horror at what was at the other end of the jump.

_Oh…my…God!_

The car slammed into a mountain of wrapped tampons, which exploded all over the hallway at impact. Gazzy raced past me, laughing maniacally, wielding the controls. Sam came out of his room to check out the commotion, picked up one of the tampons, and smirked.

"Super-absorbency?" he said, just as Dylan and Fang emerged from their rooms on opposite sides of the hall.

"What's super-absorbency?" Gazzy asked, his forehead wrinkling.

"I don't even want to know," Sam replied, chucking the tampon in my direction. I easily caught it, feeling as if my body temperature could singe a hole through the carpet. Sam laughed and took off down the stairs, Gazzy barreling after him.

"Ignore him. We all do," Dylan said with a groggy smile.

"Uh…dude," Fang said, glancing down at Dylan's boxers, which were covered in cartoon frogs. Then Fang glanced at me.

Then Dylan went back into his room and closed the door. No shame whatsoever.

"Here, I'll…help you clean this up," Fang offered, dropping to the floor and picking up a few tampons.

"No!" I lurched forward and Fang fell back from his knees to his butt. I grabbed the tampons from his hands. "I'd really rather you didn't."

"But I can—"

"No. Just…I'm fine," I said, awkwardly gathering up the slippery wrappers in my arms. "Thanks."

"Okay," Fang said.

He stood and hovered for a second, prolonging my mortification. Finally he walked into the bathroom and shut the door. Left alone, it took all I had not to chase after Gazzy strangling him. They had been in my room. They had gone through my stuff.

This was definitely on the Top Ten Worst Mornings of my Life list.

I stood up, walked into my room, and dropped everything on my bed.

_Get a grip, Ride. It could have been much worse. Somehow._

With a deep breath, I started to lift my pajama top over my head but then saw something move out of the corner of my eye, nearly causing me to have a heart attack. Sam and Gazzy were now perched in the oak tree in the backyard and armed with binoculars, looking right through my window.

"What are you _doing?_" I shouted.

Sam snickered and waved. "How ya like my room?"

"_Your_ room?"

"Hey, I don't mind bunking with the Iggiot if I get to check out this view," Sam called with a laugh.

Jaw hanging open, I yanked on the chord next to the window, lowering the blinds.

"Kids! Breakfast!" Dr. M shouted from downstairs. "If you don't get your butts down here in the next five minutes, you're all going to be late!"

_Deep breath_, I told myself. I grabbed the wooden chair from in front of my desk and jabbed it under the doorknob. Dropping to my knees, I opened my large suitcase, only to have my shoulders slump at what was inside.

"What the?"

All over the front of my favorite white T-shirt were purple marks. Confused, I picked it up and unfolded it. Drawn right on the front was two huge circles, each with a dot in its center. Breasts. From their simple rendering it was clear they had just been drawn by one of the younger boys. And it wasn't just this shirt. Someone had drawn on three of her favorite tees. Did Jeb and Dr. M know that their kids were criminally insane?

_Just breathe_, I told myself. I tossed the T-shirts in the garbage by the desk. I took out my heather gray army tee and got dressed quickly, then blew my hair half dry and put it back in a ponytail. Suddenly I couldn't wait to get to school. It would be a heck of a lot better than this place. How had I ever imagined that last night's peace and quiet was disturbing?"

I opened the closet door to grab my sneakers and tripped back in surprise. Ari was standing right in front of me with my pink bra tied around his head, the cups sticking up like ears.

"Ha ha ha! Scared ya!" Ari's little tongue wagged as he laughed.

My heart was pounding. I made a grab for him, but he shout right past me.

"I got your bra-ah! I got your bra-ah!" he sang, dancing around my room.

"Ari!" I shouted, lunging.

The little sucker was too quick. He dodged my fingers, yanked the chair down with a crash, and made a break for it. I chased him to the stairs, but Ari straddled the banister and slid down it, his feet hitting the ground before I had even gotten past the second step. He turned, grinned at me, and headed for the kitchen.

"Ari! No!" I wailed.

Down in the kitchen the rest of the boys were talking and laughing and chowing down. I barreled down the staircase and raced through the living room.

I rounded the corner into the hallway just as Ari about to push through the swinging door.

"Stop!" I shouted.

Just then Omega appeared out of nowhere. He grabbed the little guy around the waist with one arm and hauled him up.

"Lemme go! Lemme go!" Ari shouted over and over again.

Omega snapped the bra from Ari's head and handed it to me. I was too shocked to do anything else than just stand there like an idiot. I had no idea what to say or do.

"There's no controlling that one," Omega said. They were the first words I had ever heard him say.

"Yeah…thank you," I replied. "If he had gotten in there…"

Omega looked at me for a moment. His brown hair stood straight up and there was a streak of blackish-green grease below his left ear. He was handsome in a rugged, dangerous kind of way, but there was something about him that was off-putting. Maybe it was the appraising and almost quizzical way that he was staring at me. Like he wasn't quite sure what I was.

"Yeah, well," he said.

Then he turned and walked back down a short hallway. I watched perplexed as he opened the door that led to the garage. The acrid smell of cigarette smoke assaulted my nostrils and I caught a glimpse of a couple of guys and a girl lounging on an old set of living room furniture. Everyone was wearing black. There was a drum set in the center of the garage, surrounded by amps and microphones. Just before the door closed again, I saw the back end of a mint Harley, its side panels gleaming as if it had been recently waxed.

I leaned back and took a deep breath. Apparently Omega was part of a band. And the motorcycle had to be his. Maybe one day I would ask him about it. If a day came when I felt comfortable under that gaze of his.

For now, finding a hiding place for my bras, underwear, and tampons was a far more important priority. I ignored the grumbling in my stomach that reminded me faintly of Chewbacca, turned away from the kitchen, and trudged back upstairs.

* * *

**From: ****SoarToSurvive5525(at)yahoo .com**  
**To: ****TooDang-Funky(at)rockin .com**  
**Subject: Boy Guide**

**Maximum Ride's Guide to the Batchelder Boys**

**Entry One**

**OBSERVATION #1: When they're beautiful, they know their beautiful.  
Like the second-to-oldest one, Dylan. He's a senior. He is perfection personified. And he knows it. You can tell because he just sort of smiles knowingly when you gape at him. Not that I've been gaping at him. Not at all. Anyway, too soon yet to tell if it negatively affects his behavior. (Like Mike Blukowsi and his Astrodome-sized ego problem.)**

**OBSERVATION #2: They like skin.  
Especially skin they think they're not necessarily supposed to be seeing. Like the space between your belly tee and your waistband.**

**OBSERVATION #3: They have no problem bringing up events that would mortify me into shamed silence if the roles were reversed.  
Like Dylan totally brought up the wiffleball incident, when if it had happened to me, I'd be wishing on every one of my birthday cakes for everyone to forget it.**

**OBSERVATION #4: They gossip.  
Can you believe it? I overheard Fang and Sam in the backyard talking about some girl named Dawn who blew off some guy named Simon for some other guy named Rick for like TWENTY MINUTES! They sounded like those old mole-hair ladies at Sal's Milkshakes. 'Member the ones who lectured us for a whole hour that day about how young women shouldn't wear shorts? Wait, okay, I got sidetracked.**

**OBSERVATION #5: The older ones are so cute with the younger ones.  
They were playing ultimate Frisbee when I first got here and Dylan totally let Gazzy and Ari tackle him. It was soooooo cute. **sigh****

**OBSERVATION #6: They're cliquey.  
I mean, eye-rolling, secret-handshake, don't-talk-to-us-unless-you've-got-an-X-and-a-Y cliquey. Very schooled in the art of the freeze-out.**

**OBSERVATION: #7: They have no sense of personal space.  
I need a lock on my door. STAT.**

**OBSERVATION #8: Boys are icky.  
Do not even get me started on the state of the bathroom. I'm thinking of calling in a haz-mat team. Seriously.**

**OBSERVATION #9: They have really freaky things going on down there.  
Yeah, I don't think I'm ready to elaborate on that one yet.**

**OBSERVATION #10: They know how to make enemies.  
Big time.**

* * *

**Now I know Max seems OOC but think of it this way: She's moved around a lot due to her parents. Whenever she's made a friend she had to move. Eventually she stopped trying until Texas where she met Nudge. Also, being an only child she hasn't have that much experience  
with siblings or boys.**

**ANYWAY, I apologize for the extremely long wait, but I promise you it will not take me 365 days (Leap Year) this time to type the next chapter. By the way, 'SWAK' means 'Sent With A Kiss' or 'Sealed With A Kiss'**


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